All is Fair
by M. K. Paine
Summary: Adelia Brooks is a dual-citizen witch, working to make a life after the end of Voldemort's war. Her content and stable life is suddenly disrupted by the death of a friend and colleague. When her son arrives to execute her estate, Adelia is suddenly faced with memories and feelings she would rather ignore.


**Near Hartford, Connecticut - 2004**

Adelia Brooks stifled a yawn as she applied a coat of rosy lipstick and silently cursed herself. "Don't start that. It's not even seven in the morning," she admonished her reflection. With a smack of her lips, she assured her makeup bore no flaws and turned away from the vanity. Her daily routine began at 6 a.m., six days a week, and had done so for nearly six years. Yet, she yawned almost upon pretense, as if her body was silently rebelling against her constant strain upon it.

"Morning, Micah." She patted the chocolate lab affectionately and poured him a bowl of kibble. He finished his breakfast just before she sat down to hers, and she let him out to the backyard before she sat down to enjoy her coffee and bagel. The radio buzzed softly in the background while Adelia flipped through the newspaper that had been so surreptitiously dropped at her back door. Skipping to the centerfold, she scanned for the advertisement for Books & Bobbles. Satisfied, she returned to the front page and read through some mundane articles.

The sun beamed brightly in the crisp March air as Adelia pulled into the back lot for Books & Bobbles. She tightened her sweater around her and hurried for the door.

Anyone who entered B&B would call it eclectic, but Adelia had specific criteria for what could be sold. The crowded second floor was dedicated to the used books that found their way into her hands, either through donation or thrifting. The bottom floor housed the newer volumes and the niche homemade items, ranging from beauty and jewelry to artwork and knick knacks.

In the early morning, the sun lit the front of house through the wide window. She hung the exquisite sun catchers in the bay window specifically for this reason, and she was often privy to the breathtaking glittering of sunlight as it reflected in the colored glass. After a few moments of admiring, Adelia set to work opening the shop.

The hour of opening approached. A tickle of concern edged into her mind. Her friend and colleague Eileen was due half an hour before opening. In the five years that she worked at B&B, Eileen was never late without warning. She brushed away the worry, fully expecting a call any moment, but none came. When Adelia opened the shop, not only was their no Eileen, neither was there a call.

Stepping behind the front desk, Adelia dialed Eileen's home number. It rang several times before the answering machine picked up. "Hi, Eileen. It's Adelia. Please, let me know you are all right. If I don't hear from you in twenty minutes, I'm sending someone round to your place."

Although, she and Eileen were close, Eileen was old enough to be Adelia's grandmother. Pictures of the worst flashed through Adelia's mind, and before twenty minutes had passed, she dialed another co-worker. He picked up on the third ring, drowsy but there. "Hey, Mark. It's Adelia. Do me a favor, huh? Eileen didn't show up for work. Could you swing around to her place? Just check to see if she needs anything."

"Sure thing, boss." Mark was a man of few words, but he knew his books. His almost eidetic memory meant he knew the store's inventory nearly as well as the computer's.

She waited anxiously, tugging at the sleeves of her sweater. A few customers required help, which was a useful distraction. She silently thanked whatever watched over them that the town had a healthy tourist rate all year long.

As noon approached, still there was no word from Eileen or Mark. Again, she dialed Eileen's number. This time someone answered. "Hello?"

Adelia sighed in relief, but it was a man's voice. "Hi, is Eileen there?"

"No, I'm afraid Ms. Prince passed away overnight."

His words were like bricks. "What?" Cold ice water washed over her spine.

"She passed in her sleep. Who may I ask am I speaking to?"

"Adelia Brooks. Eileen worked in my shop."

"I know the shop. I am sorry to bear the bad news, Miss Brooks. I am Officer Meyer and responded to the 911 call placed by a Mr. Samuels."

"Yes, yes," she spluttered. "I was worried when Eileen did not show for work. I called Mark – he works for me, too – to check on her. She is never late." The last bit was added weakly, in a feeble attempt to explain it all.

"Of course, miss. I do apologize for your loss, but I'm afraid I must go."

"Certainly, Officer. Please, let me know if there is anything you need." She dropped the receiver to the table, staring blankly at the register. For six years, Adelia lived without death's cold hand. After the war, she never wanted to attend another funeral, or at least, not for some great number of years.

Her shoulders hunched as the tightness of grief snaked through her heart. Having enough sense to look around for customers, and assuring there were none, she locked the door and flipped the sign to "Closed". She barely made it to the sanctity of the storeroom before she sank to her knees, heaving heavy sobs for her dear friend.

* * *

The days following Eileen's death were the bleakest Adelia had known since the war ended. A stupor of grief painted all the employees of B&B, and despite her efforts to buoy spirits, Adelia languished with the rest of them.

Having been her closest friend, Adelia had offered to take care of the arrangements, but the police informed her that Eileen's son would be coming to take care of business. Adelia had never met the man, but from what she gathered, Eileen and her son were not on great terms. She did not press the issue and wallowed in her grief privately.

Several days passed, and on an evening that she had the unfortunate duty of closing B&B. She was a self-diagnosed "morning person" and preferred her evenings to be committed to relaxation, but a life in retail did not permit for such luxuries. Coupled with the stress of the previous days meant she could hardly put on her best customer servicing, so when the door opened ten minutes before close as she straightened a stack of hand knitted alpaca scarves, she hardly had any patience or energy left.

"We close in ten minutes, so please, browse quickly."

"I am hardly here to browse."

Her hands froze. She knew that voice. For nearly seven years, it was a constant in her life. Straightening slowly and breathing deeply, Adelia turned around to face her old head of house.


End file.
